Eclipsed
by v.c.accalia
Summary: In a brash decision to prevent the destruction of yet another sealing stone, Oz resorts to unorthodox tactics that hurt the person closest to him. And he doesn't even realize it. Post-CH53. Yaoi. Future citrus fruit. Gil/Oz


**_Disclaimer_**_: This story is a nonprofit work, for entertainment purposes only. I claim no ownership over characters used within my fiction-writings, they are property of Jun Mochizuki._

This story takes place POST-CH. 53 but PRIOR to CH. 54-onward.

Enjoy!

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**Eclipsed**

You've come so far from innocence, provided all the consequence, only what does it matter now?_  
[The Running Free; Coheed and Cambria]_

Prologue

Frozen rain mercilessly pelted against the glass panes of the horse-drawn carriage, making the slow but steady trek back to the Rainsworth residence seem all the more bleak. An oppressive silence polluted the air of the carriage compartment, suffocating what should have been a celebratory atmosphere. The occupants had, after all, successfully acquired the sealing stone from Isla Yura's mansion – though it proved to be no easy feat. The questionably-sane cult leader had been unrelenting, and in a brash decision made by the youngest of the group, highly unorthodox tactics of acquisition had been resorted to. Successful as they may have been, the consequential tension they were currently experiencing had been strung long and taut, and seemed to reverberate with each clap of thunder overhead.

None of the occupants seemed willing to breach the silence – each immersed in the depths of their own thoughts, wary of the steadily tightening, frayed wire that would soon inevitably snap.

_Any minute._

Break leaned against the cold glass pane, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed to the scene before him. Sight, especially his, would not have perceived anything that his other senses could not detect on their own – the soft, breathy gasp that escaped Alice's lips each time she caught herself nodding off, the slight rustling of fabric each time Oz's hands passed over his arms in an idle attempt to warm them, the small slope in the cushion beside himself, signaling Raven's presence, though the man remained completely still and silent.

His single, crimson eye opened to stare blindly at the man beside him. _Such a fool._ Rolling his eye, his gaze drifted across the carriage to rest on the vague silhouette of the teen at fault. _A greater fool. _

His eye narrowed.

_Any day now._

Oz's shoulders shook involuntarily as a chill crawled up his spine. Ever since they'd left the mansion, he found himself unable to retain even the slightest bit of heat in his body. Unsurprising, he supposed, considering the physical toll of B-Rabbit's power and freezing wind and rain just beyond the carriage walls. His body simply didn't have the energy to provide him enough warmth.

Barely suppressing a second shudder, he lifted his legs onto the bench and pulled them to his chest. _A little better_, he thought, resting his chin on his knees and frowning at the man across from him. Gil had been particularly distant and unresponsive since their mission had been fulfilled. It was not unlike him to be quiet after an assignment, but for Gil to be this withdrawn, this frigid...

Perhaps, instead, it was the cold that radiated from the raven that chilled him to the bone.

_Any second._

Gilbert stared out the rain-soaked window, rigid and unseeing, but focused with utmost intent on a blur beyond the misty glass. His hat was tipped forward, shadowing his expression from the gaze of his companions and shielding him from judgement. It was all he could do not to let them see the truth.

He was in agony.

Back at the mansion, Isla Yura had been stubborn and resolute. It was clear he had no intention of relinquishing the stone. The fight that ensued yielded little headway, and if any progress had been made at all, it was abruptly thwarted by the arrival of the Baskervilles. Admittedly, a change in strategy had been necessary – and Oz's impulse-driven angle had proven highly effective – but, never had Gilbert expected his master, his best friend, his... _Oz_ to go so far for the sake of Pandora's wishes.

He was beginning to wonder if, after all of this time, he truly knew the boy at all.

Had he ever known...?

"...Gil?"

_Snap._

Alice, who had previously taken to absently drawing patterns on the fogged window, paused her ministrations (finger still poised and ready above the glass) to cast a curious gaze at the man in question. She arched a slender eyebrow, glanced between the raven and Oz in confusion, and finally turned to Break for an answer. When perplexed amethyst met annoyed ruby, she found one.

Her lip curled into a scowl.

_Too little._

Frowning, Oz lifted his chin and dropped his legs to the floor. He tried again. "Gil..."

Still, the man remained unresponsive.

"Gil... please look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, the raven tore his focus away from the window to meet his master's eyes. The once warm, inviting amber gaze (at least, when directed at Oz) now seemed so empty. Broken. _Crushed._

"Talk to me, Gil," he pressed further, voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?"

_Too late._

Gilbert lowered his head, dark hair falling into his face. Gloved hands fisted. Teeth clenched. Eyes burning with the effort to fight back the unavoidable.

"Stop the carriage," came the deadpanned whisper.

Emerald eyes widened.

"...What?"

"I said, stop the_ goddamn carriage!" _

As commanded, the carriage suddenly lurched forward, jostling the occupants around the compartment, before skidding to an abrupt halt. Without further comment, Gilbert rose from the bench – eyes downcast – and, much to Oz's shock and confusion, pushed open the carriage door, stepping out into the storm.

"Gil, wait!" he protested, stumbling to his feet to follow his servant, only to be met with resistance – a firm grip on his wrist, forcing him to stay. Shooting an anxious look over his shoulder, Oz was faced with a hard stare. "Break?"

"Let him go," the hatter replied, keeping a restricting hold on Oz's forearm.

"But—"

"Let. Him. Go." It was not a suggestion.

The remaining carriage occupants turned to the door as it slammed shut behind the raven. The resulting silence that filled the compartment had metastasized, creating a malignant void that left them feeling the heavy weight of the man's absence.

The wind shrieked in anguish. The sleet came down like hail stones, in unforgiving torrents.

No one dared contend.

* * *

As the door closed behind him with resounding finality, Gilbert paused, staring down the path ahead.

Numb to the ice pellets that whipped against now-reddened skin and soaked into his clothes, Gil only felt the ache of betrayal – of he and his master both. The unwavering loyalty and devotion he had to Oz almost had him turning back, begging forgiveness for his disobedience and bearing his pain without complaint, as any good servant should.

Ten years ago, he would have.

Things were different now. He was a nobleman and member of Pandora. A friend. A _lover._

There was more at stake than the risk of Oz's anger and disappointment.

_Far more._

"Sir! Are you alright? What's going on?"

Gil turned his attention to the worried voice of the carriage driver and the anxious stomping of restless Clydesdales.

"Please bring the others to the Rainsworth residence, as planned," he instructed, turning on his heel to walk away.

The carriage driver's eyes widened. "Sir! I must advise you to return to the carriage. The risk of developing hypothermia in these conditions—"

"I know," Gil interrupted, in a tone that left no room for argument. He glanced back over his shoulder at the attendant, lowering his voice an octave. "Take them back. Do not stop until you reach the destination. Understood?"

The driver pulled his traveling cloak a little closer, frowning, but nodded nonetheless. "Yes sir."

With a flick of the reins, the horses pitched forward resumed their journey home.

Gil stood there, rooted on the spot, clothing plastered to his skin, until he could no longer see the carriage through the rain and mist.

Sighing, he turned back around and faced the direction from which they came. He grit his teeth, eyes narrowed dangerously, mind resolute. This is it.

_Don't stop._

_

* * *

_

After the carriage began to move again, venturing down the muddy path once more, no one said a word.

Oz had curled himself into another upright fetal position, arms wound tightly around his legs and forehead pressed between them. He had taken to brooding over the situation, and both Break and Alice seemed to have an unspoken agreement that neither would discuss the issue. At least, not until the oblivious blonde teenager was ready to truly acknowledge it.

Which, apparently, he was.

"Was it something I said?" he whispered, slowly lifting his face to stare at the empty space across from him.

Oz worried his lower lip between his teeth and cast an anxious glance at the frosted window. The storm seemed more agitated than before, and appeared to worsen with each passing minute.

_Gil..._

"I just don't understand," he murmured, pressing an open palm against the icy glass.

"I do," Alice interjected, crossing her legs and tilting her head in a curious 'how-is-it-that-I-know-and-you-don't' sort of way.

Oz twisted around sharply and glossy green eyes plead with violet.

"You hurt Seaweed-head's man-feelings."

Oz blinked. "I... what?"

"I believe what Miss Alice is _trying_ to say is you made a critical error at the mansion this evening," Break responded, a patronizing smile plastered on his face. "And it is Raven who suffers for it." He chuckled softly, as though the thought amused him. "Ah, but we've said too much, haven't we, Miss Alice?"

"Stupid clown," she muttered, returning her attention to her window-fog drawings.

Oz stared blankly at the opposite wall. _Something I did...? He left... because of me? _

He lowered his head to his knees and closed his eyes.

_Gil...what have I done?_

_

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A/N: _Short prologue. Chapters to follow will be longer. If you're confused, well, you should be. If you think you know what's going on, well, you might! Stay tuned. (And yes, we will be revisiting the night at Isla Yura's mansion in greater detail. Oh yes, indeed.)

xoxo  
V.C. Accalia


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